


Sunbeam

by MountainRose



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Hand Feeding, Multi, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22976338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MountainRose/pseuds/MountainRose
Summary: Jaskier returns to the house Yennefer had been occupying, after a hard day's work in Oxenfurt, to find a distressed Yennefer utterly baffled by Geralt's sudden softness.Established geralt/yen/Jaskier
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 10
Kudos: 369





	Sunbeam

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Passeridae for the beta!

"Jaskier!"

He startles out of his daze, fumbles his ale and twitches with his whole body. When he'd left them to their breakfasts this morning, there had been no plans for hunts or anything more complicated than a day in bed. He hadn't angered anyone in town, and he had been fairly certain they were still at it when he'd returned. That had been before he raided Yen's pantry, of course, but she hardly notices it's contents, and they'd all be eating at the street vendors if he didn't keep it stocked. "What on earth, Yennefer—"

"It's _Geralt_ , he's gone all— not himself," she hisses, hair mussed and shift barely clinging to her shoulders. She's standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame like she's had a shock. Her eyes are wild and her lipstick, which Jaskier had thought an illusion, is as smeared as any normal woman's might be after a wild afternoon. 

"I hardly think I can help if you cursed him in your passion, dear." He recovers himself and takes a drink, feeling like he’s going to need the ale to deal with... all this. 

She storms over to the table and her manicured fingernails are not blunted in the slightest by doublet nor chemise. He winces, jerking away, but her grip doesn't exactly let him go far. 

"There's nothing magically wrong with him, I'd be able to sense it." She pulls at him until he has no choice about following. "His mind is... Fuzzy, indistinct, from the mutations, I can't tell what's happening."

" _Yennefer_ , are you asking _me_ to be a healer? Surely— there's— let me take Roach and fetch the elfhealer, there was one traveling—" 

She drags him into the room she and Geralt were enjoying. The scent of sex and perfumes is pleasant, and Geralt looks happy and sated on the bed, haphazardly covered in the bedsheets.

Jaskier, now rather less worried for his friend, brushes Yen's hand off his arm, by the surprising expedient of holding it gently, like one might guide a drunken friend. He pulls her, now, over to the bed, and sits next to an apparently unharmed Witcher. 

"Mmm... Jask." 

"Geralt. Feeling okay?" He rests his hand lightly on Geralt’s chest, which thumps with his glacial heartbeat, and rises and falls with even slower breaths. Normal for Geralt, and his skin is warm and smooth, sweat long burnt off by the warm, sultry afternoon sun.

"Warm, nice. Mhrmph," Geralt comments. How eloquent. 

Jaskier puzzles over this situation a moment, then looks up at Yen, baffled. 

She bristles with something Jaskier can't pinpoint and grabs Geralt's hand. It hangs loose and his arm stays floppy, and Geralt turns his head into the pillow just slightly, smiling while she waggles it from side to side. 

"See?! He's. Useless! Gone, absent, _soft._ " 

Jaskier, remembering the orgy in Rinde when they first met, finds his next thought to be somewhat... Improbable. But speaks it anyway, because he has a somewhat newfound confidence that she won't murder him for the impertinence if he's wrong. 

"Have you not seen him like this before? Nor any man, for that matter? He seems to be rather sweet and enjoying himself if I must say." 

Some recognition does spark then, and Yen’s gaze flicks over the somnolent Witcher with a more assessing sharpness. Presumably she sees what he had, now that she's less startled:

Geralt's eyes are blown wide still, the gold a bare glint in the afternoon glow, and his colour is better than good. His absurdly large muscles have gone soft and smooth, and even his jaw is relaxed, mouth hanging open a bare gap and lips soft and plush with kisses. 

Jaskier straightens the bedding over him, and brushes the man's hair from his face. Geralt's eyes close with a sigh and when Jaskier tells him to go to sleep, in the softest of tones, the man drifts off between one word and the next. 

"He's fine, Yen. Rather better than fine. You know what this is." 

She laughs, tight and angry, probably at herself, but nods. "I never expected— I bullied him into a bath, and then— our fun was definitely somewhat..."

"Adversarial?" Jaskier supplies, delighted at the very image. 

She nods again, hands flickering as she touches each finger with her thumb. He would think it some kind of sigil, but there's no chaos distorting the air, so it must be an idle fidget. "It's a shock, I didn't use so much as a touch of magic, and it..."

"Wouldn't have worked anyway." Jaskier stands and guides her out into the hallway without touching her this time; she seems more in control and he knows she doesn't need it right now. "No, I think this is a gift that you both have built together in the usual way. The long way around."

She relaxes, then tenses again, this time with excitement, hands over her face and eyes shining with sudden mischief. 

He grins back, a filthy, delighted look. She smacks him with the back of her hand, on the shoulder, and they both break into laughter. Relieved.

Jaskier gestures downstairs and she goes with him without really seeming to care, a certain hazy brightness to her that is very new. "Who would have thought, Geralt of Rivia, made so soft as that."

"I, for one, am not surprised. The vagaries of sex are a constant shifting landscape of delights and surprises! And thus. I know not to be _surprised_." 

"For a bard, you excel at making nonsense."

"And yet, you understand precisely what I mean." 

She concedes with a wave of her hand.

In the dining room, where the bread and various delicacies Jaskier had gathered to accompany his ale are still laid out on the table, she flops vigorously into a chair. A faint look of pain crosses her face and he smirks, and eyebrow raised in question. 

She's already got a date in her mouth, and throws another at him in mild offense. He manages to catch it, covering his fumbling with a flourish, and eats it with an exaggerated sexuality that has her laughing all over again. 

He fills up a platter with choice finger foods, even slicing and buttering bread. Butter is one luxury of staying with Yen that he misses every time they part ways, and he's sure the same is true for Geralt, who craves high-calorie foods on a near-constant basis. 

Once he's done, Yennefer has caught on and adds an apple that she slices into an ornate swan with a twist of chaos. 

She stands, brushing her fingers clean on a napkin, as he does. 

"Thank you, Jaskier. As foolish as I feel, I'm glad you were here." She kisses him gently on the cheek, and he flushes. This is quite an uncommon occurrence, and he will treasure it. Usually they bicker and snipe, and while that is thoroughly enjoyed, he likes this as an alternative. 

"Go wash up, o' beautiful stormfront; he'll be back to normal before you know it." 

She hums, fiddling with the loose drapery of her gown. It's gained a few creases here and there, and Jaskier ponders the need for laundry. He's never had to do any staying with Yen, and— a wave of her hand makes the garment perfection itself and he huffs in understanding. 

"Even chaos can't substitute a hot bath, Yen. Join us when you're ready?" 

She concedes with a wry smile. "Next time, I'll be ready, and help him after. But yes, you do...this bit." 

He bows with only a small mocking flourish, and she sweeps off, freshened linens billowing elegantly as she passes through a sunbeam. The Continent bends itself around her; even rattled she is breaktaking. 

He smiles to himself, secretive: a worried sorceress, coming to him for comfort... It's a unique moment and he is deeply glad he had the necessary knowledge. He’s sure she would have understood soon enough without him, though it’s possible Geralt might not have had such a nice time if she had pestered him in her anxiety. 

He makes his way back to Geralt, who has curled over onto his side and dislodged his blankets again. Jaskier places the food and drink in easy reach and settles next to him on the bed. The man is still soft and peaceful, though his mouth is closed now, and his relaxed pose looks more familiar in sleep. 

"Geralt," he says, very softly. The man's hearing hardly needs more than a whisper after all. "Geralt, are you hungry? I brought you some food."

A deep, subaudible grumble indicates that Geralt has heard him, but Jaskier doesn't move yet, resting a hand on the man's cooling shoulder. It takes Geralt visible effort to open his eyes and Jaskier feels very tender about this entire situation. He runs his hand down Geralt's back in long, slow strokes as the muscles steadily return to functionality. He feels them bunch and then stretch as Geralt curls into a tighter curl around Jaskier's hip and nuzzles into his thigh. 

It is desperately sweet and lovely, but there is a real danger of becoming trapped in Geralt's arms and missing the whole point of bringing fuel to a tired Witcher. 

" _Jamon iberico_ , because Yennefer has fine tastes, yellow cheese, because you do not. Peasant bread, salted butter. Dates, forest berries, mmm and I'm fairly sure this is veal. Aren't we fortunate today, my love..."

The short litany does what it usually does, and Geralt rouses again, led by the nose in the direction of the food. When he hauls slow eyelids open this time, his pupils are almost normal and they stay open more easily. He's still hazy, like Yen had been briefly, but he's closer to his normal self. 

Jaskier pushes at him, though there's no real possibility of Jaskier budging his iron-forged bones, and Geralt moves over willingly enough. Jaskier has the space to sit up against the headboard, then, and leans over to bring the platter onto his lap. 

Geralt rumbles deep in his throat again, a pleased but hungry sound. 

"You are eminently fortunate that I understand 'grumble' fluently, my gorgeous, deadly beastie." 

The man huffs out a hot breath, most of which goes directly into Jaskier's doublet, where Geralt has burrowed half into his side. It's deeply adorable and slightly pointy: the man is at least 75% chin. Jaskier makes up a mouthful of cheese and a date wrapped in ham and waves it in Geralt's direction as bait. 

A single golden eye emerges and tracks the food. Jaskier waits. It's not so much a battle of wills as the patient observation of gears slowly coming back into alignment in Geralt's brain. Eventually, the man un-burrows from Jaskier's side and opens his mouth. 

Heart fluttering at this unexpected honor, Jaskier feeds him the morsel and allows Geralt to lick his fingers clean. 

The first mouthful takes Geralt some time to process, and he returns to hiding in Jaskier's clothing for a moment. But, as expected, his hunger pulls him back out, and faster than the last time. Bread and butter this time, and Geralt does not feel the need to retreat like a wolf to his improvised den. 

By the time the platter is empty, Geralt is sitting up, and as loquacious as he ever is, which is to say he grunts at Jaskier to eat the last of the berries when asked. 

Jaskier, who was out wrangling his publisher all morning and then establishing performance schedules over lunch and into the afternoon, is quite tired at this point, and content to laze about with Geralt, not a thought in his head. The man has surfaced from his pleasant stupor, unharmed and looking pleased with himself, so Jaskier allows himself to doze. 

At some unknown time later, Yennefer appears, briefly bullies him about his clothes, and then he settles in for a proper nap. 

He is indeed more comfortable without his breeches and doublet, so he does not feel too sore about the bullying, and drifts off to the quiet rumbles of Yen and Geralt talking on the other side of the bed. 


End file.
